


Dark Alleyways

by chocobee



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Mugging, Poor Prompto Argentum, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22038631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobee/pseuds/chocobee
Summary: “Hey, kid,” says a voice from behind him.Prompto turns, slowly, to face the two men. The one in the red hoodie is leaning against the wall, hands stuffed into his pocket. The other one looks him up and down. “Can I help you?” Prompto asks, cringing at the nerves obvious in his voice.“Yeah,” the one in the red hoodie says casually. “Give us your backpack, huh?”“C’mon, can’t we work this out?” Prompto asks, putting his hands up placatingly and trying for a wobbly smile.The guy in the red hoodie raises an eyebrow, then pulls one of his hands from his pocket. Prompto’s stomach clenches with anxiety when he realizes the man’s brandishing a switchblade, waving it in Prompto’s direction. “Wasn’t really askin’, kid.”Bad Things Happen Bingo:Mugging
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1380571
Comments: 6
Kudos: 226
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Dark Alleyways

**Author's Note:**

> Another request fill that's entirely too late. Sorry for such a long delay! This square was requested by an anon who wanted:
>
>> _Can I request another bad things bingo with hurt prompto, the mugging one and set pre-road trip? Just gen no pairings :)?_
> 
> Enjoy! Hope I did okay! Thanks for sending in a request <3 

Prompto hums quietly to himself as he steps out of the diner, the bell above the door jingling cheerily as it closes softly behind him. He shoves his hands into the pockets of the hoodie he'd tossed on over his uniform to keep the autumn chill out and starts making his way down the block.

At the beginning of his extra shift, he'd sort of regretting taking it — but then he'd racked up more tips than he's ever gotten before, so the exhaustion creeping into his bones is well worth it in his opinion. The cool air on his face wakes him up a little, which is good — he still has a whole night of gaming and movies at Noct's, not to mention the long walk, ahead of him. He sends Noct a quick text saying,  _ just got out, omw now!!!!! :)  _ and waits for Noct's,  _ see u soon!  _ before slipping his phone back into his pants and burying his hands in the protective warmth of his pocket once more.

He hurries along down the dark street, eyes on the ground in front of him, watching the way the street lights shine on the pavement, still wet from this afternoon's rain. With a reputation of being one of the sketchier areas of Insomnia, the streets are mostly deserted by this time. It's a far cry from the usual hustle and bustle of the night-life in the nicer areas of the city.

He doesn't outright pay attention to the other late-night goers he sees, but with little else to distract him, he can't help but notice when he passes someone. A tired looking man locking up his shop for the night; a woman jogging past with a huge, fluffy dog (though he definitely notices  _ that) _ ; two men standing at a corner, cigarette smoke curling into the air above them; a man walking with a sleepy child on his shoulders, smiling as he listens to her nonsensical rambling; two teenagers that laugh too-loud in the quiet of the night and shove at each other, reminding him a bit too much of himself and Noct.

Prompto's maybe halfway to Noct's when he shudders at the sudden sensation of eyes on the back of his neck. He risks a glance back over hunched shoulders, and spots two guys trailing a ways behind him. They're the same guys he'd seen smoking on the corner; he recognizes the black baseball cap of one and red hoodie of the other. He panics for maybe one, two seconds before he manages to calm down. There's no crime in walking in the same direction as him. They don't even seem to be paying him much attention, anyways, engaged in a conversation he can't make out from this far. He's just jumpy and paranoid because he's alone in a sketchy area, that's all. He's fine.

He tells himself that he picks up his pace because he's cold and in a hurry to see his friends, not because he's scared of two seemingly innocent guys walking in the same direction as him.

So he walks, and they follow. He tries to stop his heart from cramming itself into his throat when he turns left at the next intersection, and they do too. Prompto does his best to not to look suspicious and keep glancing back at them, but the next time he does, they're considerably closer than last time.

Prompto reaches up to grip the straps of his backpack, trying not to panic. They're probably not even following him, and he's just being paranoid. But he decides he'd rather be safe than sorry, and looks both ways before any traffic before jaywalking across the street.

The guys don't seem to pay him any mind. They stay on their side of the street, keeping pace. Prompto lets out a sigh of relief, chastising himself for letting his anxiety get the better of him once again.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees them cross the street, and his heart jams itself into his throat. He tries not to show how completely panicked he is, continuing down the sidewalk a touch faster than before, eyes frantically roaming the empty streets for any sign of help. No one else is out and about, and all the storefront windows are dark. 

Prompto's mind is racing, trying to come up with some semblance of a plan through the panic clouding it. Up ahead, he spots the opening to an alleyway — that could work, right? Maybe he could cut through and buy himself some time to make a run for it.

It’s the best he’s going to get, so as he passes by the mouth of the alley, he ducks inside and breaks into a light jog. He hurries along, trying not to let the creepy darkness freak him out even more, and comes to a turn towards the end. Except, when he rounds the corner—

He nearly trips over his own two feet trying to stop himself. It’s a dead-end, nothing but a brick wall and a rusted metal door that leads into one of the buildings.

Prompto has enough time to think,  _ oh, shit,  _ before he hears two sets of footsteps coming towards him, crunching on loose gravel and discarded trash. His heart is hammering in his chest.

He tries the door as some final, desperate attempt at escape. It’s locked.

“Hey, kid,” says a voice from behind him.

Prompto turns, slowly, to face the two men. The one in the red hoodie is leaning against the wall, hands stuffed into his pocket. The other one looks him up and down. “Can I help you?” Prompto asks, cringing at the nerves obvious in his voice.

“Yeah,” the one in the red hoodie says casually. “Give us your backpack, huh?”

“C’mon, can’t we work this out?” Prompto asks, putting his hands up placatingly and trying for a wobbly smile.

The guy in the red hoodie raises an eyebrow, then pulls one of his hands from his pocket. Prompto’s stomach clenches with anxiety when he realizes the man’s brandishing a switchblade, waving it in Prompto’s direction. “Wasn’t really askin’, kid.”

Prompto clenches his jaw, fists balling up by his sides. He knows he has no choice but to comply — to just  _ let  _ himself be robbed of all his hard-earned money — because he knows that he could hardly take on  _ one  _ random mugger, let alone two that are both just shy of Gladio’s size. Prompto’s scrappy, sure, but he knows a losing fight when he sees one. Plus, he really,  _ really  _ doesn’t want to spend his Friday night bleeding to death in some random back alley.

So he stares at the ground and lets the straps of his backpack slip down his shoulders, then holds it out to them by the loop on top. It’s yanked away roughly and the one in the baseball cap unzips it and turns the entire thing upside down, carelessly dumping the contents onto the wet and dirty alleyway ground.

Prompto frowns, and for once he’s seriously glad he forgot his camera at home. It would’ve definitely been damaged in the fall and then stolen on top of everything. He watches on, along with the guy in the hoodie, as the other man digs through the pile of extra clothes and pajamas Prompto had for his sleepover at Noct’s. He finds Prompto’s wallet and pulls it out, cracking it open to peer inside. He whistles lowly. “Lotta cash in here, kid,” he says, pulling it all out and leafing through it.

“It’s tips,” Prompto explains angrily, like that will somehow earn him his money back.

Predictably, the guy just shrugs, stuffing the wad of cash back into the wallet and looking through for anything else of value. In the end, all that’s returned to Prompto is his ID, which is the most absurd way he’s ever heard of a mugger trying to be considerate. His wallet is tucked away in the guy’s back pocket, and he pilfers through Prompto’s now-ruined clothes once more.

“Got a phone?” the guy with the hoodie asks.

Prompto frowns. His phone is full of what he considers to be sensitive information — phone numbers of various important people, and pictures and videos of Noct, Ignis, and Gladio. Handing the phone over wouldn’t just leave him with one more expense to cover, but could potentially put Noct or the others at risk. He couldn’t just…  _ give  _ them his phone. There’s too much at stake.

But the guy in the baseball hat has one hand on his hip, the other stretched out and open, waiting for Prompto to deposit his phone into it. Prompto doesn’t really think about it, he just pulls his phone from his hoodie pocket and tosses it sharply to the ground before it can be taken away from him. He smashes the heel of his sneaker onto it for good measure, watching it shatter.

Both muggers are stunned for a moment; the alley is near silent for a few tense moments. The one in the baseball cap looks up, scowling. “What the hell?” he demands, then steps towards Prompto menacingly. Prompto has barely any time to react before he’s being shoved back, stumbling to catch himself.

A swift hook to the jaw has Prompto seeing stars, trying to get his bearings enough to fight back. But a second hit doesn’t come, and Prompto can do nothing but slide down against the brick wall behind him, dazed. He glares up at the man standing over him and tries not to think about the fact that neither of them had bothered to hide their faces, and about how maybe that means they were planning on killing him from the start, since he could possibly identify them.

“Enough,” the guy in the hoodie calls. He’s crouched down, pushing the shattered bits of Prompto’s phone around with the knife. “Doesn’t even look like it was worth much, anyway.” He stands, glances down at Prompto with a frown, then looks to his partner and says, “Let’s get outta here.”

The man above him sneers at him, but does nothing more. He follows his friend out of the alley, and just like that, it’s over. Prompto sits against the wall, hugging his knees, for a few minutes. His jaw aches, and the pain has gone up into his head, and he’s pretty sure his lip is split, blood dribbling down his chin. He doesn’t even care that it’s probably dripping down and staining his sweatshirt, or more importantly, his work uniform.

Eventually he gets up, anger coursing through him, and shuffles over to pick up his scattered belongings. All his clothes are wet and dirty, and Prompto roughly shoves them back into his bag with angry tears in his eyes. He picks up as much of the remains of his phone as he can, slipping them back in his pocket. He’d need the SD card, at least, to hopefully get all his pictures and stuff back and onto a new phone, when he can get one.

As he emerges from the alleyway, he glances around, but any signs of the two men who’d mugged him are gone. The streets are still deserted, just like they’d been however long ago. He can’t even check the time, doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’d entered the alley. The ordeal had probably only lasted for a few minutes, but it felt like he’d been in there for hours. Frustrated, he wipes his sleeve across the blood on the bottom of his face, white-knuckles the straps of his backpack, and continues trudging along to Noct’s apartment.

It’s not  _ fair.  _ Not fair that all of his hard-earned money was taken away from him almost immediately, not fair that there was practically nothing he could do to stop it from happening. He feels so  _ helpless.  _ If it were Gladio or Ignis in that situation, or even Noct, surely they would have been able to defend themselves. The only skill he has is running, and even then it didn’t help him.

Eventually, Noct’s building comes into view, and a tension Prompto hadn’t realized he’d been holding releases. He climbs the front steps and gets a glimpse of himself in the glass of the doors; it’s not pretty.

The Crownsguard typically stationed there are all familiar with him at this point, and it’s rare he has to provide any ID anymore. However, since they all know him, he’s swarmed as soon as he enters.

“What happened to you, Prompto?” one asks, a younger woman with black hair and kind green eyes named Caeli. She grips his head in her hands and turns it to inspect his jaw. “Are you okay?”

Prompto laughs nervously, watching as her partner, Marcia, opens the lobby doors and peers outside. “I’m fine,” he says, cheeks flushing. “Just, ah, ran into some trouble on the way.”

“What trouble?” Marcia asks, appearing at his side. “Are you still in any danger? Is His Highness?”

“No, no,” he assures, waving his hands. He wasn’t followed the rest of the way, and he doubts the two guys who’d mugged him had any idea who he was or who he was connected to. “Um, just some guys. They wanted my money, that’s all.” He shrugs.

“Oh, honey,” Caeli says, gentle but not patronizing. “Let’s get you upstairs, huh?”

“Oh,” Prompto says, as Marcia puts a hand on his back and starts guiding him to the elevator. “I can go myself, you don’t need to, like, escort me or whatever,” he protests.

“Humor me,” she says as they get into the elevator. Caeli waves to them from the lobby as the doors close. “A potion’ll fix you right up. Prince Noctis has some in his apartment, I know.”

“It’s fine,” Prompto says, even though talking is making his jaw hurt even worse. “It doesn’t hurt that bad. I don’t need all that.”

Marcia fixes him with a dry look, and then the elevator dings cheerily and the doors open. The Crownsguard stationed on Noct’s floor give him concerned looks, but they’re waved off by Marcia. She knocks on Noct’s door with her arm around Prompto’s shoulders, holding him to her side.

The door swings open almost immediately, as if Noct had been waiting by it for Prompto to arrive. “Finally, we’ve been—” Noct pauses, smile dropping from his face, as he looks between Prompto and the ‘Guard. “What the hell?” he settles on.

Immediately, Gladio and Ignis’ faces are peering around the corner to see what’s going on. “Uh, hey, guys,” Prompto says, laughing awkwardly and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry I’m late.”

Marcia ushers him inside, explaining, “He got into a bit of trouble on his way, I’m sure he can do all the explaining.” To Prompto, she says, “We’ll figure out all the paperwork and reports tomorrow, alright?” He nods uncertainty. “Just get some rest for tonight.” She glances back to the others, who are standing in a little group, eyes wide. “Just give him a potion and I’m sure he’ll be fine, no need to worry.” On her way out, she ruffles Prompto’s hair carefully. When the door closes behind her, the apartment is silent.

“Um, don’t worry about the potion,” Prompto says quickly. “It’s really not that bad.”

The three of his friends blink at him. Finally, Ignis says, “Prompto, what  _ happened?” _

“Oh, uh,” Prompto says, “I was on my way and I got, like, jumped, I guess?” He can see Gladio’s shoulders bunch up with anger, and he’s quick to reassure, “It’s okay! I’m okay, the one guy just, like, clocked me pretty good, that’s all.”

Ignis pulls Prompto closer, cupping his face to inspect his injuries like Caeli had done. “Come sit,” he says, frowning. He guides Prompto to one of the dining room chairs, and Gladio and Noct follow closely behind. Ignis tugs at Prompto’s blood-stained hoodie. “Why don’t you take that off?”

Prompto nods and tugs the sweatshirt off. When he does, the remains of his phone slip from his pocket and clatter to the floor. “What the hell?” Noct says. “Is that your phone?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’ll pick it up,” Prompto tells him, but Ignis is already crouched to collect the pieces.

“They broke your phone, too?” Gladio says, scowling.

“Huh? No, that was me.” When he’s met with confused stares, he explains, “Well, after they took my wallet, they wanted my phone too. But, like, I have all your phone numbers and a  _ ton  _ of embarrassing pictures of Noct. So I figured, um, it wouldn’t be good to let those get out.” Prompto shrugs. “So I smashed my phone before they could take it.”

“That was very smart of you,” Ignis praises after a beat of silence. “I’m sorry it cost you your phone. But we’re all very grateful you didn’t hand that information over to anyone.”

“‘Course,” Prompto says, like it’s obvious. He gives Noct a sympathetic look. “Sorry, buddy. That means no King’s Knight ‘til I get the money together to replace it.” Tonight has certainly been a dent in his funds, to say the least.

“Don’t worry about it,” Noct says immediately. “We’ll get you a new phone.”

“What? No,” Prompto protests.

“It’s no trouble. It can be replaced, along with whatever funds you’ve lost,” Ignis say, and Gladio nods along behind him.

“No way, I can’t let you guys do that…” Prompto says, frowning.

Ignis must sense that Prompto’s getting a little overwhelmed, so instead of arguing he simply says, “Why don’t we get you cleaned up and worry about all that in the morning? I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

Prompto  _ is  _ exhausted. “I can do it myself, really…”

“You were late, and you weren’t answering your phone, so we were really worried,” Noct butts in. “So just let us take care of you, ‘kay?”

Prompto gazes up at his three friends, all watching him with worried, upset faces. “Yeah, okay,” he surrenders eventually.

Things kind of blur together after that. Prompto remembers Ignis gently wiping the blood from his face, and Gladio pressing a potion into his hands with no room for refusal. He remembers Noct lending him clean, fresh pajamas when they discovered how dirtied his got, and he remembers Ignis throwing all his stuff into the washing machine while he ate warmed up leftovers with a promise that all the stains would come out.

Prompto ends up on the couch, swaddled in soft blankets and squished between Noct and Gladio, with Ignis on the other side of Noct. He’s a little overwhelmed from all the attention he’s received, and exhausted from the night’s events and the healing magic running through him. There’s a movie playing, but Prompto’s not entirely paying attention, just leaning against Gladio with droopy eyes.

“I’m giving you some self-defense lessons,” Gladio rumbles from beside him, suddenly.

“Yeah, okay,” Prompto agrees sleepily. “Thanks.”

Gladio hums in reply and the room falls silent save for the television once more, and Prompto struggles to keep his eyes open. He knows he definitely won’t make it all the way through the movie, but he’s sure no one will mind. Noct falls asleep during movies all the time. Prompto feels warm and safe and loved between his three friends, so he stops fighting and lets their comfort lull him into a peaceful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3
> 
> [personal tumblr](https://k-ovic.tumblr.com) | [writing tumblr](https://choco-bee.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/choco_bee_) | [requests](https://choco-bee.tumblr.com/requests)
> 
> DMs are always open, feel free to come and chat :)


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